


Room 4132

by weesebbie



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Sex, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:11:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7150682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weesebbie/pseuds/weesebbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have a meeting with your favorite teacher, Mr. Stan, to discuss your essay. You walk to his office, your heart pounding in your chest, hoping you'll be able to get through the meeting without embarrassing yourself. He is, after all, very distracting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room 4132

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find my one shots on my tumblr, @weesebbie ! x

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you make your way to room 4132. Your fingers hang onto the edges of your books tighter as you try not to shake. _Just breathe. It’ll be fine._

You’re not usually this nervous when you go to a teacher’s office. However, this is different. It’s different because you love this class, and you really want to succeed, but also because Mr. Stan is teaching it. And that man has a way of messing with your head.

You often find yourself drifting in your thoughts when you sit in his class - not because you’re tired or bored, but because that man is just too goddamn distracting. He’s always dressed well, with a nice shirt, a tie and a jacket. His leather shoes are always well polished, but not too well. And his chestnut hair is tamed, combed to the back of his head, although the occasional strand of hair sometimes escapes, and he pushes it back and that’s when you think that you might just be losing your mind. 

And the way he talks - that soft, low voice, that becomes strong when he’s talking about something he’s passionate about. Sometimes it gets a little husky, especially when he’s tired. But what you like the most is the fact that even if the lecture hall is filled with two hundred students, it always feels like he’s only talking to you.

And now you’re on your way to meet him in his office. Alone.

_Just breathe._

4128, 4130, and finally, 4132. You stop in front of the door, which is partially opened but not enough so whoever is inside can see you. You gather your courage, breathe in, breathe out, and knock. The answer is almost instantaneous.

“Come in.”

It’s too late now, you can’t back out. So you push the door open and enter the office. It’s a small room, and you take a second to glance around. You’re amazed by how many books there are - they’re everywhere, on bookshelves, on the desk, even on the floor. There are a few movie posters - one of Dirty Harry and one of the Godfather, you notice. There is a large window behind the desk, with a nice view of campus - but it’s raining today and since you’re four floors up, you can only see the grey sky outside. And then there’s the desk - it takes up the majority of the space and is covered in books and papers. There is also a computer, and a half-drank cup of coffee. It’s still hot - you can smell it from where you are. And then, of course, is Mr. Stan.

When you came in he was slightly slouched in his chair, his feet propped up on something under the desk - another pile of books, maybe? - but when he sees you he straightens up and smiles, greeting you with your first name, and asks how you’re doing.

You are a bit shocked that he knows your first name - after all, there are at least two hundred students in his class - but you answer, your voice slightly shaking from nervousness, that you are doing well, and then proceed to ask the same to him.

“I’m quite well, thank you. Please, take a seat.”

You smile in appreciation, ignoring your restless heartbeat. You settle your books and your bag on one chair and sit on the other, passing a shaky hand in your hair to look casual. All the while, you feel his eyes on you, not helping your state at all.

He’s sitting straight now, his elbows on the desk, the book he had been reading settled next to him. He looks much more relaxed than he is when he’s teaching - his jacket his off, his tie is loose, and his sleeves are rolled up. You clear your throat slightly, trying not to stare at the muscular forearms. His eyes are still fixed on your face, and he has a small, polite, curious smile on his lips.

“I was happy to get your email. This is about your essay, right?”

You nod, feeling yourself blush from the staring. You are used to looking at him - but now he’s the one looking at you.

“I’m just worried about the structure. I was wondering if you would mind taking a look.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

You’re not sure what it is, but something in the way he said his last sentence makes your whole body shiver. Maybe it was the slight lingering on the last word, or how husky his voice suddenly sounded. You settle your computer on the desk, hoping he doesn’t notice that your hands are shaking and your face is bright red. You are too terrified to glance at him but you know he’s looking at you - in fact, you can _feel_ it.

“Why don’t you come around the desk and sit next to me?”

Your eyes, which had stubbornly been fixed on your screen, look up in surprise. 

“That way we’ll both see the screen.”

His smile makes you both want to punch him in the face and make out with him - but you only peck your lips in order not to say something stupid. You nod, and stand up from your chair. He stands up at the same time, goes around the desk to grab the chair you had been sitting on and then brings it right next to his. All while he does this, you can only stare at him wildly, with your heart thumping even harder in your chest.

He looks back at you when he’s done, giving you a soft smile as an invitation to join him. And you do, although you’re not sure all of this is good for your mental health. _Does he do this with every student_ , you ask yourself? Something tells you that he does not, but you quickly chase away the thought.

A few seconds later you’re sat down next to him, and he’s reading through the outline of your essay. Your chairs are so close your respective thighs are nearly touching - you glue yourself to your chair, terrorized that it might happen if you get distracted - and you know that comes easily with him. Your hands are tightly clasped together as you glance back and forth from the screen to his face. He is focused - his brows are slightly furrowed, his eyes moving from left to right as he reads. He has one arm settled on the desk, his fingers near to the trackpad - and unable to help yourself, you look down at his other arm, and at the hand that is spread on his thigh.

 _Focus_ , you tell yourself. _You are here for your essay, and this is your teacher. Stop acting like a fangirl._ You are able to gather some determination, and you straighten your back a little, determined to get through this meeting without fainting or embarrassing yourself. But then he looks back at you, and your determination shatters.

You have never seen him this up close. His eyes penetrate yours so violently you tremble a little. They are icy blue - and you instantly lose yourself in them. Luckily, he smiles, bringing you back on planet Earth.

“This is really good. I don’t know why you’re worried.”

He proceeds on commenting your outline, giving you praise, advice and recommendations - and you nod as he talks, but whatever he is saying just doesn’t make any sense because you keep thinking about his eyes, and the hand on his thigh, and the loose tie and the way his muscly arms are showing through his shirt and you’re wondering if he goes to the gym and -

The sound of your name shifts you back to reality.

“Are you doing all right?”

He looks legitimately worried - he’s frowning.

“Yeah - sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just - I’m just tired,” you babble, laughing nervously. 

“Don’t worry. I know what it is to be a student. I was one not so long ago.”

You smile at the soft tone of his voice.

“These things can be tough on you,” he says, vaguely pointing your computer. “That’s why you need to make sure you relax sometimes. Take some time for you.”

You nod, unsure of what to answer to that. Of course, something comes to mind, but you’re not mad enough to say it aloud - so you bite your lip, holding in the sly comment. You notice his eyes flicker to your lips, and then both of you are silent.

The silence does not last long - but it feels like an eternity to you, as you try not to look at him, as you try to ignore every atom in your body that pulls you towards him, as you try not to sigh just from the energy that he is exuding at that moment. The rain keeps falling outside, and you are every aware of every single detail about him.

Finally the release comes as he clears his throat - a deep, guttural sound that makes you shiver - and stands up.

“There’s a book I have you might be useful for your essay. Let me grab it for you.”

He walks to a bookshelf close to the door, and you take the opportunity to breathe out. _Come on_ , you think. _Get over yourself._

You look back to observe him as he looks for the book on the shelf - and that’s when you notice that the office door is closed. You stare at it, dumbfounded. You _clearly_ remember leaving it open when you entered. Had he just closed it? You suddenly feel hot, as the next logical question fills your mind - _why would he even do that? ___

__“Ah, there it is.”_ _

__His voice makes you jump, and you stare up at him with wide eyes. He comes up to the desk, but stays on the other side, holding the book._ _

__“Thank you,” you say, breathless, mindless._ _

__You take the book in your hands, holding it like you would a baby. He doesn’t answer - he just looks at you, stares at you, as if trying to find you out. It seems like his eyes are asking a question, and you’re not sure of what it is but you only look back in response, hoping it will be enough. He inhales slowly, and then he bends over to put both his hands on the desk so he hovers over you, and you feel small and you _just can’t breathe.__ _

__“As I said,” he begins, “I was happy to get your email. There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”_ _

__“Oh?” is all you manage to say._ _

__“Yes. It’s about your… attitude in class.”_ _

__Your jaw drops slightly - you were not expecting this. You can see the hint of a smirk on his lips, but he stays serious, his pale eyes still glued to yours._ _

__“As you know, we’re about ten weeks into the semester, and I noticed a few things about you.”_ _

__You feel your cheeks grow hot. _He noticed you.__ _

__“You’re a very good student, but I can’t help but notice how you seem a little… distracted sometimes.”_ _

__Your heart is pounding in your chest. _Oh, God. Does he know?__ _

__“You’re always looking at me, but I feel like sometimes you’re not really listening to what I say. Am I wrong?”_ _

__You don’t know why you do, but you shake your head, almost instinctively._ _

__“That’s what I thought. Now that’s something you’ll have to resolve, because you see…”_ _

__He straightens up, and as he talks, makes his way around the desk._ _

__“When you’re looking at me the way you do… When you blush at whatever thought crosses your mind… When your chew on your pencil… When you press your legs together, like you’re doing just now…”_ _

__He’s standing close to you now, _right behind you_ , so close you can feel his breath in your neck. You are paralyzed and yet you are shaking. Then you feel a finger through your hair, brushing it so it fall behind your shoulders, and the contact of his skin against yours makes you close your eyes and inhale deeply. His hand traces the outline of your collar, before it slips down your back and to your hip, teasing at the hem of your tank top._ _

__“… It’s just too _goddamn_ distracting to _me_.”_ _

__You register his words, and then your body instinctively presses itself up against his. He makes a sound that definitely ends killing your determination to not do anything stupid - because this feels far from stupid, and so your shift on your feet, stand up while twisting your body so you end up facing him and crash your lips upon his._ _

__He is a little surprised at first that you took the lead of the kiss, but quickly he joins the dance, and soon you are kissing like teenagers. The force of the crash sends you backwards, and your back hits the desk which squeals in protestation, but you’re too busy to notice._ _

__His mouth is urgent against yours, and you do your best to follow, just to show him how badly you want this too. He closes the small remaining distance between your bodies, his hands tightly holding your hips, as your own run up to his hair to ruffle through it. You are not letting yourselves breathe, there is no time for that - the kiss only deepens, and soon you feel his tongue asking for an invitation, and you gladly let him in._ _

__His hands slid down your hips to your lower back, and then trace your ass, and you moan slightly against his lips. Taking the hint, he squeezes it gently, cupping it in his hands, before he manages to lift you up so you’re now sitting on the desk. The gesture breaks the kiss, and you stare at each other, breathless. You can feel how flushed your face is, and you glance at his ruffled hair - you are burning inside, and so is he._ _

__“You sure you want this?” he asks._ _

__In reply, you grab his loose tie and pull it towards you - he follows, to now be standing between your legs. You kiss him again, all the while working to remove the tie, and a few seconds later it ends up on the floor next to you._ _

__“Is that clear enough?” you say._ _

__He grins devilishly, staring down at you, as if devouring every inch of your body._ _

__“I knew it,” he says. “I knew you wanted this as much as I did.”_ _

__He keeps kissing you, grabbing the hem of your tank top and pulling it over the top of your head._ _

__“I can’t tell you how many times I thought about kissing you…”_ _

__His lips leave yours to travel down your chin, and to your neck. You sigh softly, your hands still in his hair._ _

__“and touching you…”_ _

__As his lips continue their descent, your tighten your legs against his waist, and you can feel his hardness against your thigh and you think, _this is it, I’ve gone mad_._ _

__“and licking every weak spot you have…”_ _

__His tongue slides down from your bra to the hem of your jeans, and when it reaches the denim he comes back up to your lips to kiss you once again as his fingers gracefully unclasp the button of your jeans. You don’t know how he does it, but three seconds later you are sitting on his desk with only your bra and your panties on, and he whispers in your ear the words that you have been dying to hear._ _

__“Until I finally fuck you hard until you scream my name.”_ _

__You take a second to look at him. He is looking at you with such lust in his eyes that you’re not sure you can handle this much longer._ _

__“Is that what you want me to do?” he asks, his voice huskier than you’ve ever heard._ _

__“Yes,” you whisper._ _

__“Say it louder,” he demands._ _

__“Please fuck me, sir.’’_ _

__His lips crash upon yours again, and you make a quick job out of removing his shirt. His skin is incredibly soft, and your hands linger on the definitions of his muscles. The bulge in his pants is definitely obvious now, and you undo his belt as his fingers slowly start to travel down there, and as his pants fall to the ground he pushes aside your panties and strokes your clit. You freeze, your body tensing at the touch, gasping loudly._ _

__And then you hear him chuckling in your ear._ _

__“You are so hot.”_ _

__You wanted to make him pay for chuckling, but as he starts to caress your clit and your entrance you lose it. Your hands are gripping what they can - and that is his left arm and the end of the desk. His thumb traces circles on your clit and then one of his fingers is inside you, and you moan loudly at the sensation, crashing your head against his chest._ _

__“ _Fuck_ , you’re so wet,” he grunts as he inserts another finger inside you._ _

__Soon his touch is too much for you - you feel your muscles tense and your breath quickening._ _

__“Don’t stop,” you whisper._ _

__“I’m not. Come on. Come for me, baby.”_ _

__These last words are more than enough for you - and you come on his fingers, your body shaking against his. You breathe out as he removes his fingers, and then he kisses you, more gently this time._ _

__You recover quickly, though, as you keep feeling his hardness on your thigh. He is still wearing boxers but they look silly now - his cock is so hard it looks like it would pierce right through the tissue. He catches you looking and grins._ _

__“Now how about we take care of that?” you say, making him smile even wider._ _

__You grab the hem of his boxers to push them down his legs, letting his cock spring free. It is bigger than you’ve ever had before, and you look at it, a little amazed and a little startled, before you take it into your hands, gently stroking it._ _

__He inhales sharply through his teeth, and you feel the cock twitch between your hands. It is hot and throbbing, and although you like foreplay, you are as eager as him to let him fill you. You watch him as he grabs a condom from one of his desk drawers._ _

__“Do you always have those close?”_ _

__He chuckles._ _

__“They’re usually someplace else, but when I got your email… I thought it best to be ready.”_ _

__You want to protest, but then you feel the tip of his cock against your pussy and it feels so good that you let out a moan._ _

__“Fuck, I love when you make that sound.”_ _

__“ _God_ , please stop talking and fuck me.”_ _

__You don’t have to ask twice - his cock enters you. You gasp, your arms around his neck. He is so close to you you can hear him breathe and grunt as he continues to fill you, inch by inch, until you are full of him._ _

__“ _Fuck_ ” you whisper._ _

__He retreats slightly just to fill you once again, and soon your two bodies come to a common rhythm. You are drunk on the feel of him, and as the rhythm accelerates you fall back on the desk, and you close your eyes as you let him pound into you. The sound of your thighs slapping together fills the room._ _

__“Open your eyes,” you hear him grunt. “Look at me.”_ _

__You do, and you see him in his full glory. His muscled chest is covered in a thin layer of sweat, and his cock is sliding in and out of you but you keep your eyes on his, however how difficult that is, and at some point he bends over to pry you up against him, holding you close._ _

__The position makes his cock reach deeper inside of you and you can’t help but moan loudly as you can feel your orgasm coming. It is close, and he can feel it too, because his grunts get deeper and lower._ _

__“Mr. Stan…” you moan._ _

__“Say my name, baby.”_ _

__“Mr. Stan… I can’t…”_ _

__“Come for me. Do it. Come all over my cock. Say my name and come for me.”_ _

__As you feel yourself drifting into a powerful orgasm, your eyes roll back inside your head and you grip his hair. You cry out his name again, letting your orgasm take full control of your body._ _

__As you explode around him, he grunts louder, letting out a deep ‘fuck’ as he joins you in bliss._ _

__You let yourselves breathe out against each other for a few seconds, before he slides out of you and rests against the window behind him. You try to catch your breath, unable to move from your position on the desk._ _

__“As I told you,” he says, a grin spreading on his face. “I was really happy to get your email.”_ _


End file.
